


The Adventures of ChatBug!

by Xanoka



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Disaster Tourism, F/M, Identity Reveal, Irony, Miraculous Ladybug Secret Santa 2017, Paris (City), Paris Appreciation, Secret Identity, Theme Tours, Tourism, Work experience, incognito Adrien, tour guides
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 20:32:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13279341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xanoka/pseuds/Xanoka
Summary: WELCOME TO CHATBUG TOURS! Buckle in for a GUIDED WALKING TOUR of PARIS with your own CHAT NOIR and LADYBUG! Admire the VIEW! Then hear about its DESTRUCTION!(Reenactment optional.)WHAT COULD GO WRONG??(Please note: Chatbug Tours will not be held responsible for any inappropriate behaviour, the loss or destruction of personal or public property or akumatisation. Please visit Paris responsibly.)In other news, it's Work Experience Week for the Miraculous Class and Adrien and Marinette both need to find a job...





	The Adventures of ChatBug!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Judiejodia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judiejodia/gifts).



> Behold my contribution to the Miraculous Ladybug Secret Santa 2017! Merry Christmas to @judiejodia on tumblr! I tried and failed to write Beauxbatons AU (I will try to finish it for you someday!), so I went for fluff and friendship instead. Hope that's OK!

It was an act of desperation.

Mme Bustier stood at the head of the class, smiling benignly, completely unaware of the despair she had inspired.

“I’ll be collecting your forms now. I do hope you all found a suitable placement for the next two weeks. Remember, M. Damocles and I will be reviewing all your applications, and depending on their approval, you should all be able to begin your Work Experience on Monday!”

She seemed delighted for them. Marinette just cringed, sinking even lower into her seat.

_This is going to be so humiliating._

She had tried everything.

She had asked everyone in the class (except Chloe) if their parents might have work experience placements for students in their work places. She had contacted countless Fashion Houses and Design Studios. She had scoured the newspapers and Yellow Pages. She had asked random customers at the bakery and phoned all of her parents’ friends. She had even advertised her desperation on Craig List.

Finally, she had asked Mme Bustier if she couldn’t just work at the bakery, only to be told her family’s business was not an option.

“It’s a chance to experience a new working environment, Marinette,” she had explained kindly. “To prepare you for your first day of work after you finish school.”

And then she had found it.

Her Salvation and Destruction in one neat bundle.

As her teacher collected the accursed form she groaned and let her head hit the desk with a defeated _thunk_. Alya patted her back sympathetically, clearly trying not to laugh, before shaking her head sternly at Nino when he turned around with an inquiring look.

But that thrice-damned sign she’d found pasted to the wall of the bakery, like a portent of doom, had been her only lead in her mad scramble of a job search, and the only positive response to boot.

So, as of Monday, she would be sacrificing her dignity in the name of Work Experience.

This was the worst day of her life.

* * *

 

Correction, _this_ was the worst day of her life.

She stared at herself in the mirror through her parted fingers, aghast. The suit was not completely skin tight (it had not been designed for her, after all) and sagged in strange places, despite stretching tight over her bust. Not to mention the material was cheap and luridly bright. And the red of the boots they had given her to wear did not match the rest of the outfit, and had heels to boot.

_Heels! I thought I was supposed to be doing a lot of walking! Why would they give me heels! Ladybug doesn’t even wear heels!_

It was grossly unfair, especially as she had seen their Chat Noir’s costume, and _he_ had not been subjected to the same indignity.

There was a knock at the door and it opened before she could squeak a reply.

“Ready?” It was Claudine, the co-ordinator of the Tour Company. She gave Marinette a once over and nodded her head in satisfaction.

“Good. Good. You’re a little younger than the real Ladybug, of course, and it shows, but you certainly look the part! Have you memorised your lines?”

Marinette gritted her teeth, but managed to nod with a smile.

She had memorised them. She had memorised every single cringe-worthy one.

Claudine beamed. “Excellent! I’m sure you’ll have a great time! Your Chat’s almost ready, and your first group should be arriving in about ten minutes, so just relax and go over the FAQ in the meantime. I must say, your knowledge is excellent. Just don’t let us down!”

On that passive-aggressive note, she waved and left the room, shutting the door with an unnecessarily loud bang behind her.

Marinette slumped.

This was definitely the worst day of her life.

* * *

 

This was the best day of his life.

Adrien grinned and bounced on his toes as he admired his reflection in the changing room’s mirror.

True, the material of his suit wasn’t real leather, was rather tacky, in fact, and true, his bell didn’t jingle right, and his tail was a limp, inanimate belt. But here he was Adrien Agreste, dressed up as his Crime-Fighting Alter-ego, _and his Father couldn’t stop him._

He had tried, of course, insisting that as a celebrity, Adrien’s security could be threatened, that he didn’t even _need_ work experience, since he had plenty with his modelling, and that if he _had_ to waste two weeks of schooling, he might as well spend it doing something _useful_ , like learning the ropes of his own future business.

But to Adrien’s intense gratification, Mme Bustier had stood firm.

No, the point of the placement was to expose Adrien to new experiences. No, he couldn’t spend the time working for his Father. No, he couldn’t work for any of his Father’s business associates at a rival Fashion House either.

She _did_ concede the need for anonymity, for the sake of Adrien’s safety, a concession he was more than willing to embrace.

And then she had brought him the advertisement with a kind, expectant smile.

“I know it might be a little outside your comfort zone, Adrien. But I’ve noticed you’re a little shy sometimes, and this opportunity could really build your confidence! And your experience as a model should help. It’s a little silly, I know, but I think you could have a lot of fun with it.”

_Lord knows, you need it._

She hadn’t needed to say it, but the words hung in the air, and Adrien whole-heartedly agreed.

So here he was, brimming with a tingly mixture of nerves and excitement. All the freedom he usually experienced as Chat Noir at his fingertips, and he was still _Adrien_.

No Gorilla, no schedule, no name.

Even his Father had admitted that, without the name _Agreste_ , and with his face obscured by a mask, he was in no more danger than any other teenage boy. So, with strict instructions to call Nathalie at the beginning and end of every shift, and during his breaks, to prove he was still alive, he was free to explore Paris as himself.

He glanced at the clock. Claudine had said their first tour would be starting soon, so really it was time to go and meet his ‘Lady’. His stomach buzzed with nerves again and his smile faltered.

Would she like him? Could they be friends? What would she be like? It was weird he couldn’t tell her his name, wasn’t it? Would she find it creepy?

Anxiety began to overtake the excitement.

He had never really met people his own age outside of school before. And there he had a schedule, and clear, unwritten boundaries to dictate his behaviour. There he had _Nino_ , not to mention school work to save him from the need to interact with anyone else. Not that he didn’t _like_ socialising with his classmates, of course. But after a mostly solitary childhood, it could be overwhelming. What unspoken social conventions was he stepping on now? It was a mine field, one he was glad to walk, but nerve-wracking anyway.

His own reflection caught his eye again.

_I’m Chat Noir. I’m a Superhero! I can do this._

Squaring his shoulders, he threw open the door.

And froze as he heard it make contact with someone’s face. Pushing the door more cautiously, it swung back to reveal a girl in a Ladybug costume, cradling her nose and swearing under her breath.

_Shit. Oh no! Oh no! Oh no! What should I do? She’ll hate me!_

“A-are you OK?”

She looked up and blue eyes met his, looking so much like his Lady as her face scrunched up into a scowl at the sight of him.

“I’m fine. No thanks to you. Stupid Cat.”

She immediately clasped her hands to her mouth, looking mortified and began to stutter an apology.

But, for whatever reason, her irritation eased the tension from his shoulders and pulled a smile from his lips. Whoever they’d hired to play Ladybug must have been a megafan, because her impersonation so far was excellent.

This was familiar. This was the pattern of so many of his actual encounters with his Lady. True, it wasn’t real, but he could pretend; this whole _job_ was about pretending. And no one could do Chat Noir better than him.

He straightened, stretching as an excuse to flex, while watching her out of the corner of his eye.

“I am _so_ sorry, My Lady. What can I say? I always make an _impact_!”

She just scowled and rolled her eyes, muttering something before saying more loudly: “Come on, you. The tour group will be here in five minutes. Let’s go over the routine.”

* * *

 

So it wasn’t _too_ terrible.

Marinette loved Paris, and once she put over the indignity of the costume (and the one-liners), she rather enjoyed showing it off to tourists.

True, most of them were interested in hearing about how it had been torn up on numerous occasions – it was a Miraculous themed guided tour, after all – but that didn’t stop her attempting to sneak in some historical and cultural facts alongside epic accounts of explosions and akuma.

Surprisingly, her partner had been some help there. He acted like an irresponsible poser of a flirt, but he knew his history, always ready to back her up with a date or an anecdote, and even quotations.

He’d only mouthed “Home schooled” at her over an English tourist’s shoulder at her raised eyebrow.

He might have posed far too much, and he told terrible jokes, but he was kind of fun to be around.

And today, the biggest recompense of all.

“Jagged Stone!”

Turns out, he was a _huge_ Ladybug fan. Not surprising, really, considering the number of times he had been caught up in akuma attacks, not to mention his own akumatisation. And to Marinette’s unending delight he had requested a private tour. With _her._

“You’re that young girl who designed by glasses, right? And the cover of my album.”

Marinette fought to keep her face calm and composed.

“Yes! I am!”

So much for that.

“Great! You’ve got good taste! This tour will be rockin’!”

She wasn’t sure what her artistic taste had to do with her competency as a tour guide, but Marinette beamed until her cheeks ached.

Beside her, ‘Chat’ shuffled awkwardly, glancing surreptitiously at their guest with a slightly annoyed expression before ducking to whisper in her ear.

“You don’t have to make that weird face. He’s just a guy.”

Marinette’s smile froze. Fortunately, Jagged was busy chattering animatedly with his manager and hadn’t heard.

“What are you talking about?” Her lips barely moved as she attempted to keep the smile in place. “He’s Jagged Stone! He’s a rock star!”

_And he remembered me_.

She chose not to add that last part.

Her partner huffed and crossed his arms petulantly. “He’s still just a guy. He’s nothing special.”

This time, Marinette didn’t even try to cover her annoyance, huffing and fixing him with a look. “Oh, please! I saw how you reacted when you saw the roster for today. You actually screamed.”

“I did _not_ scream!”

“Yes, you did! You were just as excited as me.”

“Well, at least _I_ haven’t been drooling over him since he arrived! It’s not… It’s not professional!” He finished loftily, impressed with his own flash of inspiration.

“Well, _I_ don’t think – ”

“Excuse me? Is there a problem?”

Jagged’s agent, Penny, was watching them with a look of concern. They both flushed at being caught bickering.

“Of-of course not! Everything’s fine. We’re just… preparing.”

“Yeah. Chill, Penny. They’re getting into character! They sound just like Ladybug and Chat Noir!” Jagged patted his manager’s shoulder, grinning at them expectantly. Marinette managed to return the smile weakly.

"Mr. Stone has met Ladybug and Chat Noir," Mlle. Stone announced ominously as the Walking Tour got under way. The _So you better not screw up_ went unsaid, though Marinette would probably laugh about it later, when she wasn't choking on completely irrational performance anxiety. Luckily, her Chat had no such issue.

"Oh yeah!" He said, with his usual cheerfulness. "I remember that one vividly. On the Eiffel Tower, right?"

Jagged preened, looking pleased by the acknowledgement. As if he wasn't a famous Rock Star and akumatization wasn't a traumatic event.

Chat laughed. "So, shall we skip that one on the Tour? Been there, done that?"

"No way!" Jagged cried, as oblivious as Chat to Marinette's glower, because, really, that was just insensitive. "I want to know all about The Mime!"

"It was pawsitively awesome," Chat agreed. "My Lady was breathtaking. Every swing of her yoyo wrapped itself a little tighter around my heart. And saved a precious landmark," he added, as an after thought.

"Yes, she _and_ Chat Noir saved the day, protecting the city's heritage and preventing _cat_ astrophic property damage and loss of life."

Chat shot her a grin and a fist bump.

"Any other favourites?" Chat asked innocently.

"Oh yeah! I want to see that Plaza were Animan swallowed Ladybug! And the fountain where Ladybug fought Chat Noir! And Hotel de Ville! I have got to hear about Darkblade and Kung Food. I was there, but I don't remember! It was wild!"

"We could do a re-enactment!" Chat exclaimed, brimming with enthusiasm.

"Would that be safe?" Mlle Rolling cut in, eyeing Chat dubiously.

For some reason, that irked Marinette. Sure, he was some teenager, not an actual super hero, his insistence on anonymity aside, but dammit, he was still her (temporary!) partner. She opened her mouth, and was saved from a breach in professionalism by Jagged cutting in.

"It'll be totally fine!" he said, brushing away his manager's concern, like crumbs.

"I'm just not sure if there'll be time," she hedged.

"Oh, no worries, Penny. I don't know if you have noticed, but all these akuma attacks happen in this exact area."

"Convenient," she said dryly.

And it certainly was for Chatbug Tours, and for Marinette's Work-Superhero-Life balance. It was almost as if she, Chat Noir and Hawkmoth all lived in the exact same neighbourhood.

Eh. It was great for tourism in Central Paris, at least.

So they stopped at Trocadéro for Timebreaker stories (Marinette did _not_ tear up) and pictures of the view. And an epic recreation of the Eiffel Tower's near death experience, complete with Chat whipping his cheap plastic baton around athletically and energetically enough to attract a small crowd.

They agreed not to cross the river, but continued on through the Right Bank, paying tribute to the Pharaoh at the Louvre - "Penny! What rhymes with Egyptian?" - and Stormy Weather's Ice Dome park.

Jagged even exclaimed over the bakery as they passed the scene of Animan's defeat.

"Penny! We should buy croissants!"

Marinette cringed. If her parents saw her in this get-up she might be forced to drown herself in the Seine. But Chat was already bouncing forward, like an overexcited kitten chasing a butterfly.

Heh. She'd have to save that one for Chat later - the _real_ Chat, _her_ Chat. It suddenly felt like ages since their last patrol.

"This is where Ladybug and I made our strategic.... retreat during the battle," Fake Chat announced, interrupting the sudden onslaught of _feelings_. "But, that's not all! Ladybug and I would be nothing without the brave citizens of Paris -"

"You wouldn't have any akuma, for a start," Mlle Rolling muttered.

" - And this fact has never been more evident than during that tumultuous struggle! The Dupain-Cheng family, who own this bakery, risked their _lives_ to protect us and sheltered us within these very walls!"

He was hamming it up mightily, clasping his hands to his chest with emotion. Jagged was enthralled and even Mlle Rolling looked reluctantly impressed. Despite herself, Marinette couldn't help wiping her eyes. Her parents were awesome!

"We have got to go!" Jagged crowed, shaking his manager's shoulder, like a child begging for a treat.

"Right!" Chat enthused. "Their madeleine are to die for!"

Also, wait. How did he know all this? Was he one of their regulars? She appraised him subtly, but, as usual, got nothing. Just a teenage boy her age, like millions of others in Paris.

He probably lived in the area. Perhaps his school was making him do Work Experience too?

Small world.

Chat started to cross the street, grinning like he could already taste the macaroons.

And that was when the screaming started.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
